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I awoke in the arms of a pearlescent woman cooing softly at my dribbling tears. My cries jumped with every invading beam of light. A trance of amazement engulfed my mind deep into endless confusion. There were radiant smiles encircling me as I coiled within myself. They spoke in exuberant tones emphatically fawning over my tender skin as I caught thousands of strong fingers. They molded into my palm but slept away before our balance was met. There were so many fingers. I was never left without one, but they were never the same.

In a few days time I was being wheeled to an intricately woven basket. An artisan creation most definitely, it's sturdy lines mixed together in a taught maze that protected me from the world's exposure. Floating on forever, so it seemed, I swayed with the sea learning the voices of every living thing.

My veil suddenly rose one morning and I was blinded again from the beams of light. A slumber immediately took over my fear. Soon after my eyelids rose to that same pearlescent woman. Her familiar coos comforted my racing eyes and eventually captured my frightened gaze. I explored her beautifully structured canvas. The strokes softly lead over one another. The result was a complex layering of colors and textures and lighting and contrast and angles.

Ever since then, that woman's face has been embedded into my memory as the finest representation of life. Oh, how I would love to meet the artist.